


Pen or Dagger

by nikolayevich



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal, D/s, M/M, Oral, WIP, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 11:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6152362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikolayevich/pseuds/nikolayevich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy had been warned not to take Professor Bennett's class. They said he was ruthless. Andy never thought he would be singled out. He also never thought he would end up in 'private' tutoring, but that was just his luck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pen or Dagger

It was only the fifth day of class and Andrew Ellis was nervous. He bounced his leg underneath his desk. His other classmates seemed to mirror his anxiety. They had all arrived to class at least ten minutes early. Everyone remained quiet. Usually, a classroom was buzzing the moments before a Professor stepped in. It was fall semester and the students were interested in forming new friendships. This class, however, was not the case.

The professor, Ezra Bennett, had singled out Andy the first day of class. Andy had run over a nail on his way to class and popped a hole in his tire. This had caused his bike to be practically useless. He had locked his busted bike to a rack and ran halfway across campus. This was his second year in college and he knew professors were usually lenient during syllabus week. Or, he thought they were. He should have known better.

Professor Bennett was head of the English department and a notorious hard ass. Everyone had warned Andy not to take the class but he needed the class for his major. Unluckily for him, Bennett was the only professor who taught that particular course. When Andy finally made it to class, he was only two minutes late. He thought he would be okay. He was very wrong. Bennett had turned his attention to Andy the moment he walked in. He then proceeded to give Andy the worst tongue lashing of his life. When it was over, Andy rushed to the only seat available. His face was red and he was barely choking back tears.

It was Friday and Andy was anxious for the 50-minute class to be over. Then, it would be the weekend and he wouldn’t have to see Bennett’s face for two whole days. On Wednesday, Andy had gone to the registrar to drop out of the class. They told him if he dropped, it would push his graduation date back almost a year because Bennett only taught the class in the fall and he needed the class to take the next levels. So he just had to deal with it. Just three days a week for four months. Awesome.

Bennett arrived at exactly 7:55am. He sat his briefcase next to his desk and pulled off his charcoal suit jacket. He placed it on the back of chair. He rolled up the sleeves on his white dress shirt with deadly precision. He turned to the chalkboard and began to write on the board with perfect, swirling handwriting. Honestly, Andy thought. Who even used chalk anymore? It was so dusty.  
“God, he’s so hot.” A girl sitting to his right whispered. Andy looked at her incredulously. When he turned back to look at the front of the classroom, Bennett was staring at him intently. Andy felt pinned to his chair by that look. Did Bennett think that he had said that? Andy, using all courage he could muster, glared back at the man. Bennett finally looked away.

When the clock turned to 8:00, he began to lecture. Every so often, he would fix Andy with that tepid, scrutinizing look. It made Andy want to vomit.

Andy gnawed on his bottom lip. He had to agree that Bennett was attractive. His hair was as dark black as ink. His eyes were a dark brown or maybe black. Andy was pretty sure no one could have black eyes, but a girl in one of Andy’s other classes insisted that Bennett’s eyes were black. “As dark as his personality,” she had teased, but Andy thought there was some truth to that statement.

Bennett was the youngest department head in the University. It was rumored that he was barely thirty. Someone said that he had studied at Harvard. He intimidated almost every student that he came into contact with. He was unapproachable with a glare that would probably make a British Royal Guard cry. He never had office hours and if someone had to speak with him outside of class, they had to go speak with the Teacher’s Assistant.

Andy wished that he could pass through one class without drawing much attention to himself. The only problem was that the man seemed all too keen to embarrass him in every single class.

“Mr. Ellis,” Bennett called. He brushed chalk from his hands.

Andy felt dread begin to pool in the bottom of his stomach. Every eye in the classroom was on him. Some people were giving him sympathetic looks. God, he should have dropped the class, graduation be damned. “P-professor?” He answered, his voice hoarse with nervousness. He wanted to melt down into a puddle. Maybe that would cause the man to look elsewhere.

“What do you think William Carlos Williams was trying to convey in his poem ‘This is Just to Say’?” He spoke slowly, like he was talking to an idiot. There was a very pronounced sneer on his face.

Andy really wanted to disappear or maybe throw up. He glanced at the doorway and wondered how weird it would be if he ran out of class. Everyone looked at him expectantly and Bennett seemed to be losing more and more patience with each passing second. Andy was practically wired, searching his brain for anything about the poem. He had been up all night doing calculus and it had practically fried his brain.

“Uh… that plums are good, sir.” He said, his voice sounded horrifically squeaky. He wanted to punch himself in the face. Someone in the back of the class snickered.

Bennett raised his eyebrows and Andy could practically feel how excited the man was that he had said something so stupid. “How profound,” Bennett taunted. His voice was practically saturated with disdain. “Hopefully, the next person who answers will come up with anything better than the complete drivel that Mr. Ellis just allowed to leave his mouth.”

Andy’s face felt red-hot and he knew he was flushed as bright as a tomato. He placed his head into his hands and held his breath until the urge to cry passed. He hated Bennett. He hated being taunted. Andy steeled himself against throwing something at Bennett. He spent the remainder of the class glaring at his Professor.

When Professor Bennett finally dismissed class, Andy found he couldn’t leave quickly enough. He bumped into a few people in his haste to leave the classroom. He practically ran down the hallway and ducked into a small alcove that people often studied in. Luckily, there was no one in there on that day. He threw his bag onto the couch. He sunk down into the plush seats and pressed his face against his hands. He felt like such an idiot. Hot tears began to pool in his hands.

“Mr. Ellis.”

Of course Bennett had to bug him after class as well. Andy rubbed as his face, hoping to hide the fact that he had been crying. He sniffed and looked up at Bennett with as much hate as he could muster.

Bennett looked immaculately put together. His suit fit him very well. He was clutching his briefcase in one hand. The man smirked, seemingly unaffected by the amount of hatred his student had for him. “It would beseech you to read before you arrive at class. Honestly, the poem was merely a few lines.”  
“I did read!” Andy hissed. He hoped he sounded as fierce as a snake but he probably sounded more like a tire that was deflating. His next statement came out more sanguine than he had expected. “He ate the plums because he couldn’t resist the sweetness. He acted like he was sorry for what he did but he really wasn’t. He wasn’t apologetic because it was worth it. He didn’t actually regret it.” He bit his tongue to force himself not to add the word asshole onto the end of that sentence.

An emotion passed over Bennett’s face quickly. He reached into his one of his pockets and pulled out a small business card. He held it out in front of Andy’s face. When he didn’t immediately take it, Bennett leaned forward and pressed it into Andy’s hand. “Come to this room at 9pm for private tutoring.” His tone was very mild but his eyes were saying something completely different. Again, Andy felt pinned. Bennett’s breath smelt like coffee. “Do not be late,” he added, straightening back up and turning on his heel. He left without another glance in Andy’s direction.

Andy twirled the card in his hand. God, Bennett was the absolute worst. He was so pretentious, and irritating. What kind of a smarmy asshole used the word ‘beseech’ anyways?

 

 

“9pm?” John muttered. He had been Andy’s best friend, and roommate, since freshman year. He was holding the business card close to his face. He had been studying it for almost ten minutes. It was like he was waiting for some sort of secret message to show itself on the card. He rolled over onto his side and rested his head on his palm.  
“9pm,” Andy agreed from where he was laying on his own bed. He stared up at the blank white ceiling. “It’s such a weird time. He was pretty adamant that I shouldn’t be late, too.

“Maybe you’re just seeing a TA. They always have weird schedules. Grad students usually have a ton of shit going on.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Andy murmured. It just seemed weird. He had never had to go to ‘tutoring’. It was only the first week of school. What did he need to be tutored in? What kind of Professor met students at 9pm on a Friday? Besides, Bennett didn’t even have office hours. Andy knew that for sure, he had looked at the syllabus the moment he had gotten back to his dorm.

“You know,” John said, flicking his index finger against the business card. “You’re probably the first person he’s ever met with outside of class. You must be really bad at English. Or, you know…” He trailed off.

“Know what?” Andy murmured, rolling over onto his side. John had a big grin on his face.

“He’s going to harvest all of your organs!” He laughed. “I honestly hope he does. I’d love to have the room to myself.”

“Oh, shut up.” Andy laughed, feeling a little of the tension leave his body. “You’d miss me.”

“I would.” John agreed, reaching over to hand Andy back his card. “Don’t forget we have practice today.”

Andy groaned, he had completely forgotten about practice.

 

The only reason Andy even made it to college was because of a Lacrosse scholarship. His family wasn’t particularly rich. His mother, while very sweet, didn’t exactly have the organization to hold down a job. His father worked in a mine. There was no chance in hell he was going to college without a scholarship. He wasn’t dumb, but he wasn’t a genius. He had to work hard to do a lot of the work. Even though it was one of his harder subjects, he loved English a lot. Or he used to. He was athletic, though. And he was fast. He almost tried out for football but they said he was too small. It made sense, he guessed. He wasn’t particularly big.

“You have to be at least 100 pounds to try out for football,” the coach had chuckled when Andy had shown up to tryouts.

“But I’m over 100 pounds!” Andy had retorted, but they had sent him packing with a chuckled, “try Lacrosse”.

It was for the best, in the end. He had graduated high school with a scholarship and all of his teeth. College lacrosse was even more fun than high school lacrosse. He really fit in with the team. He even earned the nickname, “Zealous Ellis”. He was an attacker, the person who usually made the goal. He was distracted the whole entire practice. He was anxious about the time.

“What’s the matter, Ellis? You forget how to play lacrosse?” One of the midfielders, Greg, called as they headed to the locker room.

“He’s got a meeting with Professor doom at 9.” John responded. He pointed his lacrosse stick at Greg. “You try to play a good game when you have to think about that man breathing down your neck.”

“He may be bad, but he’s nothing compared to Professor Montoya. He smells so ripe all the time. People come to class thirty minutes just so they can avoid sitting in the front row.” Another teammate, Sampson, chimed in. “Makes me want to puke just thinking about it.”

“True, I had him for Poli Sci last semester. I thought I was going to ralf all over my notes.” Greg added. He addressed his next comment to Andy. “Yo, Ellis, if you have to meet him at nine, you’d better book it. It’s 8:50.”

“What?” Andy squealed and took off towards the locker room. He was so fucked. Bennett’s office was half way across campus. He glanced over to the showers. No time for that. He threw on his clothes, chucked his uniform and gear into the locker, and ran as fast as he could to the Language building.

He was panting by the time he made it to the fourth floor. His legs ached from having to take the stairs because the elevator was fucking out of service. He had made it with barely three minutes to spare. He stood, frozen, outside of the door. His hand was paused, mid-air, in front of the large wooden door that separated him from his Professor. He was so full of dread. He was out of breath. He was completely exhausted. He just wanted to go to bed. What type of insults would the Professor fling at him when they were finally alone? He could only assume that they would be particularly scathing.

Before he had the courage to either strike up the courage to knock, or to turn tail and run, the door flung open. The professor held open the door with one hair. He seemed practically dressed down. His tie and jacket were gone. The top two buttons of his shirt was undone. He looked properly domestic. Andy swallowed around the hard lump in his throat.

“Why are you wasting my time by hovering outside of my doorway?” Bennett scowled, anger burned in his eyes. 

Andy blinked, owlishly. Had Bennett known he was waiting outside the door this while time? He wanted to turn around and run as far away as physically possible. He had made a fool of himself once again. He tried to think of a clever retort but all that came out was, “Uh…” 

“Like always, you’ve wowed me with your immense vocabulary. Get in here. I tire of this banter.” Bennett growled, stepping away from the doorway so Andy could enter. 

Andy shuffled nervously and took in the scenery. It looked just like a regular office. There were no torture devices hanging from the ceiling. There were no jars of failed students eyeballs, or anything crazy like that. It was just an office. There was a wooden desk, a rolling chair behind the desk, and even a couch against the wall. The lights were kind of low, only a few lamps were on. There was even some soft classical music in the background. It was kind of nice in there. There was a placard on the desk that read Ezra P. Bennett PhD. 

Bennett sat behind the desk. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the plush chair in front of the desk. “Or would you rather spend the whole meeting standing?”

“Sorry, sir.” Andy mumbled, stepping forward. He slumped down into the chair.

Bennett’s mouth twisted into a disapproving grimace.

The light of the desk lamp caused the name placard to glitter. It caught Andy’s attention again. The fucker probably put it there on purpose. He wanted to throw it in the man’s face.

“I asked you here to discuss your failing grade in my class.” 

“Failing? It’s the first fucking week. There’s no way I’m failing.” Andy hissed, trying to resist the urge to cringe. Cussing at a Professor wasn’t probably the best idea he’d ever had, but he had started off strong, so there was no need to back down now. Honestly, he hoped the Professor would kick him out of his class. 

“Language!” Bennett growled, and his eyebrow twitched. 

“Even if I am failing, that’s not my fault.” Oh, god. He couldn’t stop the flow of stupidity that was free flowing from his mouth. “It’s your fault,” he stood, shoving the chair backwards. “It’s not my fault you can’t teach and that you get off on bullying students.” Go big or go home, right? He just hoped he wouldn’t end up expelled. 

Bennett stood and rounded the desk. There was a vein throbbing in his forehead. He looked practically livid, like he was about to burst at any second. Andy turned and headed to the door but Bennett was faster. He cut Andy off before he reached the door. He looked like he was ready to punch him. But instead, he turned, and locked the door. He turned back to Andy. He seemed calmer, but Andy could see the rage within his eyes.

Andy raised his hands as a form of surrender. “L-look, Professor.” Andy whimpered, his voice was barely a squeak. He had really fucked up. Bennett was going to actually murder him.


End file.
